


Tacit

by shinigami714



Series: The Toymaker's Trinkets [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU after Botfa, Dildos, Dwarf Courting, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Everyone lives, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Sex Toys, Smut, Traditions, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:31:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3232937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami714/pseuds/shinigami714
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwarves don't believe in premarital relations, so to speak.  But they have other ways of determining...sexual compatibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tacit

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something fun I've had on my mind. There will be a Fili/Kili story to follow in this universe as well.

Bilbo wasn’t quite sure what kept him from returning home once things settled after the battle.  At first he blamed it on worry.  After all, he absolutely could not leave until he was sure everyone in the company was alive and well.  Many of the dwarves sported injuries greater than any Bilbo had ever seen before.  Fíli and Kíli lay still and eerily silent in bed for weeks, while Dori complained incessantly about an ache in his back.  Balin was visibly weary around the edges and Bilbo often sat with him at night, offering what little comfort he could provide.  Some of the other dwarves had minor scrapes and bruises, or in some cases even broken bones.  And Thorin…well for a long while Bilbo was unsure the dwarven king would ever awaken.  But eventually each and every one of his friends from the company healed, and even Thorin opened his deep blue eyes and managed to work his way back into the busy life of being a king. 

After that it was a matter of responsibility.  Bilbo had to knock some sense into these friends of his.  Ensure they didn’t just throw away their lives over something as silly as gold.  He monitored them, lived amongst them.  He ate with them, and celebrated with them.  His friendships grew even stronger, and he began to settle into dwarven life.  One day became many, and somewhere along the way, Erebor became his home away from home.

He still missed Bag End terribly.  There were things in the Shire that called out to him, things that he would never find in Erebor, like the portraits of his parents he kept just over the hearth, and his comfy armchair.  There were the memories of his childhood, and other items he once held dear, some as small as his handkerchief.  But an unforeseen force kept him from taking those first few steps into the west.     

It was perhaps, his heart.

Bilbo accepted that knowledge sadly, for he knew his heart would never love another as much as it did Thorin Oakenshield, and he also knew that love would never be returned.  Since awakening, Thorin had said little more to Bilbo than brief greetings in the halls when they happened to pass each other by.  The hobbit wondered if Thorin’s rushed apologies in those moments before his imminent death went forgotten, or if maybe Thorin did not mean them at all, and only spoke the words to ease his tears.  It was disheartening, and Bilbo began to wonder, not for the first time, if he was overstaying his welcome, but no one seemed intent to force him away.  

So he stayed.

There were a great many things that Bilbo still did not understand about dwarves.  They were foolhardy, rash, and more stubborn than any other creature in Middle Earth.  They sang songs and drank the nights away; still able to rise at the crack of dawn the morning after without any struggle whatsoever, with the exception of Bofur, who seemed intent to snooze on any available surface well into the afternoon.  The dwarves communicated much of the time through signals and facial expressions that Bilbo could not for the life of him grasp.  Every image etched into the surfaces of Erebor was a symbol for something, and every object represented some greater meaning, right down to the direction it was set down in.  They seemed to have so many rituals and traditions, none of which Bilbo was aware of, and much of the time he found them offensive, when they had no intention of being so.  The odd time Bilbo tried to partake in something, it came off as unnatural, and his companions eyed him as though he were completely insane, more than likely because he’d managed to completely flub it up. 

Fíli and Kíli did not help.  The two heirs seemed determined to make a mockery of him, playing tricks and turning him astray, when he was already more than confused enough.  He knew they meant him no harm, but still he was sick and tired of the other dwarves laughing at him as he stuttered uncomfortably, his cheeks constantly reddened in embarrassment.  The worst of it however, was the way Thorin studied him, with a single eyebrow raised, and the tiniest of smirks upon his face.  It made Bilbo wish he could crawl into a hole and never come out. 

Bilbo returned to his rooms one evening more than ready to fall into bed and stay there for a full day, perhaps even two.  His quarters were elegant, though less ornate than some he’d seen, and simplistic in design.  The dwarves had done their best to accommodate him and make it a comfortable living space for a hobbit.  There was a single tapestry upon one wall, depicting a scene from dwarven history he was unfamiliar with, but he liked the artistry and colours woven into the design.  Several sets of waistcoats had been provided for him, using decadent fabrics found within the mountain, tailored for his unusual size. The jewels offered were always turned down, for he just didn’t feel right wearing the unnecessary weight.  He had a few books and odd little trinkets he’d found within the mountain sitting atop a desk, but that was all.  He didn’t need anything more.

On this particular night however, something new and unfamiliar sat atop his desk, and Bilbo approached the item slowly as he undid the first few buttons of his shirt.  It was a wooden box, very ornate, with intricate floral patterns etched into the grain.  On top a tiny piece of parchment lay, and his name was written across it in long, decorative strokes.  Bilbo lifted the paper into his hands and peered down at the box with interested eyes, wondering who might have left such a thing for him.  It was not his birthday, nor any other occasion that he could remember.

Bilbo set the paper down and ran his fingers over the box, then pulled it closer across the desk until it sat just before him.  It was hinged, and he figured he was meant to open it, and so Bilbo unhooked the brass latches on its front and hesitantly lifted the lid.  His eyes stared at the sight before him, then widened, and he slammed the lid shut immediately after.

“What in Yavanna’s name?” Bilbo whispered, to no one in particular.  Surely it was a joke.  Yes, yes it was definitely a joke.  There was not a single reason for something like that to be inside his rooms.  Bilbo pulled away from his desk quickly, struggling to slow his racing heart, and he did not look at the box again.  He lay down in bed, his back facing his desk, and stared blankly at the wall all night without getting a single wink of sleep.

The next morning Bilbo stared at the box irritably, his legs dangling over the edge of the bed.  He fiddled with the sleeves of his shirt, and eventually allowed his bare feet to touch the ground and lead him towards his desk.  Bilbo looked down his nose at the offending object in front of him, and then he held out his hands and once again lifted the lid.  His eyes were met with the same sight as the night prior, and Bilbo swallowed nervously before allowing the lid to open fully. 

There was no mistaking it.  Inside the box was most definitely a highly realistic, fully carved, erect penis.  Bilbo just stared.  His eyes blinked several times as he studied the hefty size of the thing, along with the surprising girth.  He could even make out a few veins sculpted along the underside, as well as a detailed rune of some kind etched near the base.  Without really thinking, one of Bilbo’s hands moved and hovered above the sculpted genitalia, and then he let out a long, drawn out, contemplative sound, and pulled his arm back down to his side.      

“No, no, absolutely not,” Bilbo muttered under his breath, and he turned to get dressed, back stepping immediately to shut the lid of the box.  Bilbo wasn’t sure what to make of it, but his suspicions immediately went towards two dwarves in particular.  Bilbo stormed through the halls, his bad temper even more enhanced by his lack of sleep.  Fíli and Kíli were whispering to each other just outside the throne room, and Bilbo narrowed his eyes at them as they turned to look his way.  Kíli stopped in the midst of greeting him when Bilbo’s eyes gleamed with anger, and both dwarves backed away to give him a wide birth, clearly affronted by the hobbit’s mood.  Bilbo eyed every single dwarf that crossed his path with mistrust, and spent most of the day in the library alone, before taking a long and much needed bath.

No one said a word to him about the mysterious box.

He left the object alone for several days, ignoring the box on his desk to the best of his ability.  He attempted to throw it away only once, and immediately placed it back on his desk after feeling an unusual sense of guilt.  He still didn’t know why it was there, and obviously someone had gone to a great deal of effort to make…whatever it was.  He shouldn’t just throw it away like trash.  Instead he pushed it to the far corner of the desk, but his eyes landed on it without fail, every time he sat down for an evening read.  He put it under his bed and out of sight, but he felt oddly uncomfortable with it beneath his body as he slept.  Bilbo even tried burying it beneath the rug, but the suspicious lump on the floor of his room was even more difficult to ignore.  He ended up placing it right back where it started, and found his eyes drifting to it more often than he cared to admit. 

Bilbo did his best to act natural around the dwarves.  His anger was getting him nowhere, and to be honest, perhaps it was best if he just pretended nothing unusual had happened at all.  Fíli and Kíli played their usual silly pranks on him, and Bilbo eventually came to the conclusion that neither of the young dwarves was responsible for the item in his room.  In fact, none of the dwarves seemed to be responsible.  The only one that was acting any differently at all was Thorin.  The king seemed to start up conversation with him more often than usual, even if just to comment on the weather.  Sometimes the dwarf looked as though he meant to say more, but he ended up standing awkwardly for a moment or two before shutting his mouth and nodding goodbye.  And on a few occasions, Bilbo caught Thorin watching him from behind a guarded expression, but the stalwart dwarf did not seem the type for such childish pranks. 

It made Bilbo scratch his head in confusion.

He was beginning to wonder if he should just forget the matter entirely, and ease back into life beneath the mountain as though the strange box did not still rest atop his desk, when Bofur approached him in one of the hallways with a surprised shout.

“Ah, Bilbo!  Just the hobbit I was looking for,” Bofur voiced in a chipper manner, and the cheery dwarf rested a hand upon his friend’s shoulder and pulled him into a more secluded area.  Bilbo frowned at him curiously, and waited for his companion to speak.

“I’ve been meaning to find out.  It’s been several days, and I just thought, I hope you don’t mind my prying, but how was it?” Bofur asked, and he leaned in close with wide and interested eyes. 

“How was what?” Bilbo probed, not entirely sure what the dwarf was inquiring about.  Bofur looked around them carefully and then leaned in even closer.

“The phallus,” he whispered, behind a single raised hand, and Bilbo froze as his face flushed deeply, and he was sure the colour began to spread down his neck.

“It was you!” Bilbo gasped in surprise, and Bofur pulled away as the hobbit pointed at him accusingly. 

“Why on earth did you put that thing on my desk?” Bilbo sputtered, and Bofur stood up straight and waved his hands back and forth.

“Oh I didn’t put it there, oh no,” he insisted, his fang earring flying back and forth as he shook his head.  Bilbo tilted his head to the side oddly as he tried to understand.

“Thorin did,” Bofur mentioned casually, and Bilbo’s mouth fell open in surprise. 

“I crafted it though, and it’s some of my finer work if I do say so myself!” Bofur admitted, and he stood up straight and lifted his chin proudly.

“It was an honour really, to sculpt the king’s full form, he’s quite impressive,” the dwarf mused, and after a moment Bilbo’s eyes widened dramatically and his face flared again with heat. 

“Y-you…you what? T-thorin’s?” Bilbo stuttered, suddenly unable to keep the image of the phallus from his mind.  He couldn’t help but picture Thorin as well; standing in his robes, his breeches hung open, allowing his impressive erection to stand free in all of its glory.  Bilbo squeezed his legs together and tried desperately to think of something else.

“It’s what I do you see.  I’m a toy maker, I thought you knew that,” Bofur explained, and the dwarf adjusted his collar as he smiled down at his friend.  Bilbo gaped at him openly.  He’d of course heard the other dwarves of the company refer to the cheery dwarf as such, but never, had Bilbo imagined it meant…those sorts of toys.

“B-but, but why?” Bilbo blurted out suddenly, his eyes lowering to study the floor intently.

“Why am I a toy maker?” Bofur inquired, and Bilbo directed his gaze towards the dwarf moodily.  

“No! Why was it on my desk?” he hissed in exasperation.  It just didn’t make sense.  Why would Thorin think such a gift was appropriate?  Did the king go around giving all of his friends life-size reproductions of his cock?  It was completely absurd!

“Oooooh, oh you don’t know, of course. You must do things differently in the Shire,” Bofur hummed, and then he pulled the flustered hobbit close and bent low to whisper in his ear.

 “Well, you see, we have strict rules here about pre-marital relations,” the dwarf began, and Bilbo felt his eyes narrowing as he listened intently, feeling fairly uncomfortable about the situation as a whole.

“Virginity is very significant on the wedding night,” Bofur informed him, and Bilbo turned his head to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“But of course as a people, we understand that sexual compatibility is very important,” the dwarf continued, and he smiled kindly towards his friend.

“It’s for that reason the replica is given, so that the recipient might, try it out for size, so to speak, before making any kind of permanent decision,” Bofur finished, and he put his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders and faced him straight on, like a father sending his child off into the world.  The hobbit’s eyes flickered across his friend’s face, and then shifted off to the side as he tried to grasp exactly what the dwarf was implying.  Bilbo’s ears burned, and he fiddled with the buttons on his waist coat nervously.  There was really only one conclusion he could find.

“Then…then that means, Thorin wishes to…,” Bilbo trailed off, his lungs suddenly struggling to take in air.

“To marry you, yes! I thought it was obvious, what with all of the looks he’s been giving you, and then there’s your seat at the dining table, and the clothes you’re wearing,” Bofur added, and Bilbo looked down at his garb inquisitively.  He swallowed as he studied the intricate patterns running down the trim.  The same patterns were on all of the waistcoats in his quarters, and he suddenly realised it was yet another symbol of something he did not understand.  Everything with these dwarves was a bloody symbol.  He had no idea.

“So, how was it?” Bofur pried, nudging him playfully with an elbow and a silly grin.  Bilbo wobbled unsteadily on his feet, and felt his hands begin to shake as he nibbled at his lip.

“I…I haven’t had a chance to…,” Bilbo stuttered, and Bofur slapped him heartily on the back.

“Oh! Oh of course, take your time,” the dwarf encouraged.

“But I’d love to hear your feedback when you do.  I assure you my work has never been unsuccessful before, still I’m always trying to improve my craftsmanship you see.  I’m sure Thorin’s eagerly awaiting your answer as well,” Bofur inferred, and Bilbo muttered incoherently as the dwarf said farewell and left him to his own devices.  Bilbo twisted his toes against the cool stone beneath them, wondering how he was meant to look the king in the face ever again without melting into a puddle on the ground.

He stepped further down the hall, and then paused, straightening his jacket and wiping away some imaginary dust.  Bilbo sniffled a few times, and put his hands on his hips, and then he squeaked as his mind once again settled on the item settled safely in his rooms.  He tried unsuccessfully to will the imagery away, but it stayed there, lingered at the edge of his consciousness, and he was far too curious to ward it off.  Bilbo cleared his throat and turned around, beginning to walk back the way he came.  He hurried down the hallways, his feet slapping against the ground as he tossed brief waves at those he passed by, and then he pushed open the doors to his quarters and settled heavily against them as they closed, leaving him alone inside his rooms. 

Bilbo’s eyes immediately strayed towards his desk, zoning in on the box atop it.  His eyes narrowed as he fought with himself internally.  A respectable Baggins would have thrown the item out ages ago.  But he wasn’t just a Baggins after all, and he was no longer living in Bag End.  Bilbo pushed away from the door and scampered closer to the desk, swaying his arms tightly at his sides.  He tilted his head and reached forwards, lifting the lid quickly and letting it settle back.  Bilbo gazed at the item before him, and he took a heavy breath as he fully realized it was a replica of Thorin.

Thorin, the one responsible for his grandiose journey, halfway across Middle Earth.  Thorin, the one he followed blindly through forests and over mountains, across lakes and through goblin tunnels.  Thorin, the proud, strong, and impossibly stubborn dwarven king. Thorin, the one he loved, more than any other.

For the first time, Bilbo let his hands lower to touch the cool surface, and he dragged his fingers across the smooth finish.  His thumb grazed the rune, and he figured it must represent the king.  Upon looking closer, he realized it was similar to some of the symbols embroidered in the fabrics he wore.  Bilbo sucked his upper lip in, and took a shaky breath as he lifted the phallus from the box, and twisted it between his hands.  His fingers didn’t even close around it fully, and he wondered how it would ever fit…where it was meant to.  Bilbo’s face burned as he noticed the little vial set into the box.  He’d been so affronted by the sight of the sculpture that he’d failed to notice it earlier, and Bilbo reached forwards and lifted the flask of oil into his fingers, gripping the phallus tightly in his left hand.

He took a deep breath and turned towards his bed, feeling his belly squirm anxiously.  There was no reason why he shouldn’t…test it out.  It was a gift, meant for him, after all.  His fingers fiddled with the objects in his hands, as he thought about what the other hobbits of the Shire might think, but he quickly dismissed the unwanted thoughts.  It was none of their concern.  Bilbo nodded resolutely, and hurried to his bed, pushing away the covers and making room to lie across them.  He disrobed quickly, before he had a chance to change his mind, and settled back to make himself comfortable.

The replica lay next to him, and Bilbo rubbed his legs together to warm them, already feeling himself growing excited at the prospect of what he was about to do.  He uncorked the vial and rubbed the oil on his fingers, opening his eyes in surprise at the sweet smell.  He had been expecting something more rustic, and heady, but instead it reminded him of home, and he sighed happily and opened his thighs as he breathed in deep. 

It wasn’t the first time Bilbo had experimented with himself, but it had been quite a while since his fingers last ventured between his legs, and he moaned faintly as he circled his entrance with the slick substance.  He let his head fall to the side, and eyed the phallus beside him as the first finger slipped inside.  It took several minutes for him to get used to the feeling, but he eventually adapted.  Bilbo hurried through the rest of the preparation, adding one more finger than he usually used to bring himself off, and he waited until the stretch was completely painless.  He removed the fingers and sat up, propping his back against the headboard as he reached impatiently for the sculpted toy.  Bilbo studied it thoroughly as he rubbed the oil around its circumference.  His fingers ran down each vein, and explored every ridge and surface along its length, before he lowered it between his legs.

Bilbo licked his lips as the blunt head settled against his body, and he teasingly nudged his hole a few times, mentally preparing to accommodate the larger size.  He relaxed as much as he could manage, and gently pushed in the first section.  Bilbo let out a surprised moan and pulled the toy out quickly before swallowing and pushing once again.  The second time it went in further, the entire head slipping inside his hole.  He breathed in and out heavily and waited as his body adjusted to the intrusion, and then gradually pushed it in further.

“Oh…, oh,” Bilbo gasped, as he twitched around the girth, finally managing to insert the entire length inside his entrance.  Bilbo slumped against the wall, feeling drained from the exertion and he curled on his side and pulled his legs up to his chest.  He could imagine Thorin looking down at him with steely eyes, and Bilbo played with the phallus inside his body gently, pulling it out as far as he could without allowing it to escape.  It wasn’t quite right, no, Thorin wouldn’t thrust like that.  They would be solid, and unforgiving, quick, deep thrusts, he was certain.  Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut and tried to mimic that pace.  His wrist jerked, and he groaned as the entire length entered his body, rubbing up against something deep inside him.  He squirmed atop his bed, and reached in front of his body, dragging trembling fingers down through the brown hairs beneath his belly.  Bilbo latched onto his arousal and rubbed the fluids leaking from his tip across his skin, whining at the sensations it caused.  He started thrusting rhythmically, forwards and back, into his hand and then onto the toy.

Bilbo clenched his toes and tried to imagine Thorin’s rough fingers dragging across his skin. He wondered what the dwarf’s touch would feel like.  Would it be firm and controlling?  Would Thorin hold him down and claim him like a wild animal, against whatever surface was closest?  Or would he be more reserved, focusing on the right angle, and hitting the same spot in repetitive, focused motions?  Bilbo felt his erection throbbing, and he quickened his pace, and pressed the toy in as far as it would go, rubbing at his skin frantically.  Bilbo’s hips shuddered, and he tightened around the impressive size inside of his body, and let out a long howl as his fingers clenched around his hardness.  His vision blacked out as he came, his form twitching and writhing atop the bed frantically. 

After a lengthy breather he panted against the covers and stretched out his legs, grimacing as he rubbed up against a wet patch.  Bilbo’s body was drenched in sweat and he clenched around the toy one last time before regretfully pulling it from his body.  Bofur had outdone himself.  The sculpture was absolutely magnificent.

He felt incredibly empty without the phallus inside him, and Bilbo ran a hand over his brow as he rolled onto his back.  His chest was splotchy and the hairs on his feet were standing on end, and Bilbo grinned in satisfaction as he allowed his body to go entirely limp against the bedding.  His eyes drifted shut, and his breathing slowed, but a faint smile remained plastered across his face.

He woke up several hours later, having missed nearly four meals, and sat up gingerly atop the crusted sheets.  His body ached slightly, but not enough to make him regret his morning fun, and he tidied up his room before leaving to take a lengthy bath.   That night at supper Bilbo eyed the dwarf across from him with great interest.  Thorin seemed drawn, and weary, and even from his great distance down the table, he could see a hint of sadness in the king’s eyes.  It had been nearly a month since Bilbo first received the box, and surely the lack of response was eating away at the dwarf.  It served him right for making assumptions instead of just asking Bilbo directly.  The hobbit lifted his lips slightly at the side, and ate quickly, wiping his face with a serviette.  He eyed Thorin’s body curiously, and allowed his gaze to lower to where the table blocked his vision of the dwarf’s lower half.  Bilbo noticed the minute flinch in the dwarf’s form, and Thorin cleared his throat and stood to leave, his meal left half uneaten.  Bilbo’s eyes followed him, and then he muttered his own excuses and skittered after the dwarf hurriedly. Perhaps it was time he cleared things up once and for all.

“T-thorin!” Bilbo shouted, as he caught up to the taller figure in the halls, and Thorin turned towards him in surprise.  The dwarf looked down at him carefully, and Bilbo felt his face heat up as he imagined that same figure looming over him in bed.  He coughed a few times and straightened his pants, then crossed his arms in front of his body.

“About…about your gift,” Bilbo began, and the dwarf’s brow twitched slightly in concern.  Bilbo looked around them quickly and clasped his hands together as he stood up straight. 

“I…accept,” he stated, and Thorin’s mouth opened in disbelief.  The dwarf studied him thoroughly, his eyes roaming the hobbit’s form until Bilbo began to squirm uncomfortably.

“I thought…you were displeased,” Thorin confessed, and he took a step closer to look Bilbo directly in the eyes.

“No…no quite the opposite,” the hobbit stammered.

“I admit at first I was not entirely sure what to make of it, your traditions are…very different,” Bilbo explained, and Thorin nodded in understanding, his expression suddenly softening.  Bilbo found himself smiling along with the king, and then he stepped so close his chest brushed against the dwarf’s heavy robes.

“But rest assured, I look forward to the real thing,” Bilbo claimed, and he stood on his toes and placed his hands on Thorin’s chest as he leaned in close to whisper in the dwarf’s ear.

“If it’s half as good as the replica, I’ll be like putty in your arms,” he voiced, and Thorin breathed in quickly through his nose.  Bilbo backed away before he managed to embarrass himself any further, and with a final nod he turned to retreat to his rooms.  A heavy grip on his arms halted his movements, and suddenly Bilbo was face to face with Thorin, pressed tightly against his body as the dwarf bent low to devour his lips.  Bilbo gasped in surprise and wilted in the king’s embrace, and he flushed as his lower half brushed against the dwarf’s evident excitement.  A smile flitted across his face and he thrust forward, his gaze meeting Thorin’s unguarded expression.  It spoke volumes, and finally, he understood everything that went unsaid. 


End file.
